"perne in a gyre", eh? One of those phrases (and poems) we analysed endlessly in 6th form English Lit around - ah, um - 1960 or so...

I always liked the poem. Well, Michael, you have just over 12 years on me. When I get to 70, I shall go down to Brighton beach and recite:

I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.        

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?        
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.        
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.